


It's not the Whisky, it's the Company.

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Mc76 [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Secrets, Serious Injuries, alternative universe - Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: An injured stranger, with secrets hidden behind a warm smile may mean danger for the town. McCree knows this, and yet its not just his worries, or the promise of whisky that draws him to the bar most days. Western AU.





	It's not the Whisky, it's the Company.

    Jesse McCree, long term Sheriff of Delamar was rarely lost for words these days, especially when it came down to the what the worst of humanity were capable of. Between his own time on the wrong side of the law, and the time serving the law since a very close encounter with death, and a man who had offered him a new perspective, he’d thought that he’d seen the worst that people could do to one another. Hell, he’d done some of it too, although he tried not to let himself dwell too heavily on that thought these days, not because he’d forgotten but because it was easier to move forward that way.

   However, nothing he’d seen or done had prepared him for the sight of the man that his deputy had hauled back to town for medical help a couple of hours before. Looking at him, it had been a miracle that he had survived the ride, the front and side of his clothes had been completely stained crimson from bullet wounds. The worst of those wounds being the shotgun spray that had decimated his side, although his face had been nearly as bad, a mess of blood and blossoming bruises that had made it impossible to make any sense of what he looked like.

   He was relieved to find the man looking a lot better when he was finally free to slip into the clinic, trying not to pay too much attention to the number of blood-stained cloths littering the floor, instead shifting his attention to the man’s face. Angela had done a good job cleaning him up, and whilst the skin was still covered in cuts and bruises, it was clear enough to reveal a weathered face, marked deeply with scars that made McCree wince just to look at them. The hair which was still stained with the filth of battle and blood, appeared to be snowy white beneath, but McCree had a feeling that it had faded prematurely. It wasn’t a face he recognised, which was both a relief as he had been worried that one of the outlying ranches had been attacked, but also worrying, because if the man’s attackers followed him here then it would be trouble for the town and he wasn’t sure they had the manpower to hold out against people who were capable of this kind of damage.

   Scowling he leant against the wall, watching as Angela worked and studying the man, trying to glean more hints as to where he had come from. It wasn’t as though the town was on any major trade routes, and he had been found out in the wide expanse between ranches. There was little to see though. What clothes he had were now mostly in a tattered heap at the end of the bed, his trousers were filthy and torn, to be expected if he had been moving through the wild. And beneath the bandages now covering wide swathes of skin and the blood and dirt, there evidence of other scars, marks that looked as though they had come from wounds worryingly like the ones he bore now, and it only raised more questions. _Who are you? What are you doing here? And are they still looking for you?_

   The room was silent for a few more minutes as Angela finished bandaging the last of the wounds, expression soft as she brushed her fingers against the man’s cheek, waiting to see if there was any response before pulling away with a defeated shake of her head.

“Will he survive?” McCree asked, finally daring to break the silence a few minutes later, he had learnt a long time ago not to interrupt Angela when she was working. However, she was tidying away her supplies now, so he felt it was safe, not that it stopped him from flinching when she paused, frowning as she studied her patient with a strangely intense expression.

“I think so,” she replied finally, a hesitance to her words that he’d never heard before as she pulled her gaze away from the wounded man to glance at him. Normally she was supremely confident in her hard-won abilities, having spent far too much time establishing her clinic and proving herself in a profession dominated by men to let herself falter and there was no way McCree could ignore that, leaning forward with a concerned expression.

“Doc?”

“He shouldn’t be alive,” Angela stated bluntly as she glanced down at her patient, shaking her head before lifted her head to catch the look the Sheriff was giving her…part disbelief, part amusement and she scowled, knowing exactly what was going through his mind. And the mind of nearly every other person in town, she amended, fully aware that most of them thought her a miracle worker or a witch, depending on who you asked and how much they’d had to drink that day. “Don’t give me that look Jesse McCree, I’m good but I’m not that good. I’ve nearly lost you to far less before Sheriff.” She glanced pointedly at his shoulder, well aware that it was still healing from his last run in with a bunch of cattle rustlers that had tried to target the town. The bullet hadn’t done too much damage, but he’d lost a lot of blood and it had been closer than they wanted to admit…whereas the man on the bed. Shaking her head, she gestured helplessly at had bandaging. “I’d call it a miracle, but…”

“You don’t believe in them?” McCree finished for her with a grin. It was a conversation they’d had far too many times, usually when she had managed to patch him up from whatever scrape he’d wound up in this time and usually ending with him teetering on the edge of death. Angela scowled at him, but there was no real heat and after a moment her lips quirked up, drawing a chuckle from him before he sighed, eyes darting back to the man on the bed before he reluctantly pushed himself away from the wall. “I’ve got to get back to work, will you send for me if…when he wakes up?” He amended the last bit, knowing that if Angela said someone was going to pull through, then there was no way she would allow for any other outcome.

“Of course.”

****

   It was late evening the following day that the young kid who had taken to helping at the clinic in exchange for lessons, came running to fetch him, babbling in a terrified voice that the stranger was awake and angry and that the Doc was in trouble. McCree didn’t think he had moved so fast in a long time, long strides taking him across the road and up the stairs to the clinic, heart hammering in his chest and gun out as he heard a raised voice coming from inside.

“Who are you? Where the hell am I?” The voice was gruffer than he had expected, with a hint of a Midwestern accent, but his attention was more on the tone than the accent. There was anger but not as much as he had been expecting from what the boy had said, instead the prominent emotion that he could hear was fear and that was why he softened his approach as he stepped into the room, lowering his gun just enough not to pose an immediate threat. It didn’t stop the man from whirling towards him, an arm wrapped around Angela’s throat trapping her in place, although McCree’s sharp eyes immediately noted that he wasn’t putting anywhere near as much pressure into it as he could be which gave him hope.

“Woah there, partner,” McCree murmured, voice soft, meeting Angela’s gaze for a moment and silently asking if she was okay, earning a tiny nod and despite the situation he was amused to realise that she looked more concerned than anything else as she tilted her head to glance at her captor. The man tensed at the movement but still didn’t lash out and McCree shifted his attention back him too, carefully waving his free hand to get his attention. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harm the Doc.”

“Doctor?” The man demanded, eyes narrowing suspiciously but McCree had a feeling that he was actually studying his prisoner properly this time. There was a tense silence for a moment before he abruptly released her, stepping back with an apologetic expression that did little to hide the uncertainty in the blue eyes that were darting constantly between Angela, McCree and the door, but his voice was softer when he finally spoke again. “Sorry, the last person leaning over me wasn’t looking to heal me.” There was a shadowed look on his face for a moment, and once again McCree found himself being overwhelmed with curiosity about what had happened to the man, however, the moment passed as Angela quietly accepted the apology before ordering the man onto the bed before he undid all her hard work. McCree waited until the man was settled before holstering his weapon, leaning against the wall as he let Angela check the bandages for any fresh blood.

“He’s fine, but he still needs to rest," she reported after a moment, glancing across at McCree and ignoring her patient who scowled in response before voicing a quiet protest.

“I’m right here.”

“You’re also the one who lunged out of bed and risked tearing the stiches and ruining half my work,” Angela snapped, eyes flashing in a way that would have had McCree backing down and frantically mumbling apologies, the man merely looked surprised for a minute before scowling even as she continued as though she hadn’t noticed his expression. “In this room, you do what I say.”

“I’d do what she says,” McCree cut in before an argument could start, pleased to see the stubborn glint in the man’s eyes as it meant that there was no way he was going to roll over and die at this stage. Still as amusing as it might be to watch someone stand up to Angela for once, he also needed to talk to the man and besides he knew that he would get the blame if something did happen. “She’s not the gentlest of doctors. Ow.” He had been so focused on the other man that he hadn’t realised Angela had moved, wincing when she hit him in the arm.

“Keep it brief.” It was a command and he nodded, knowing that she could and would kick him out if he tried to outstay his welcome. She spared a last glance back at her patient before slipping out of the room, although McCree knew she wouldn’t have gone far, whatever powers he had as Sherriff ended in this room and they both knew it.

“You got a name?” He asked the moment the door had clicked shut behind Angela, shifting his attention back to the man on the bed, idly noting just how blue his eyes were when they rose to meet his gaze, leaving him feeling that he was being examined just as closely as he was examining the other man. A small part of him wondering what the other man was looking for, and what he was seeing, before he arched an eyebrow at the lack of answer.

“Jack.”

“Jack?” McCree repeated, weighing the name, tasting it before frowning when all the other man did was nod in response. “No last name to go with that?”

“Not that I’d care to mention.” It was said politely enough, but there was an undertone of iron to his voice that told McCree that it was the only answer he was going to get and to back off. Unfortunately, that wasn’t something he was willing to do, not when there was the possibility that Jack was going to bring a storm down on the town.

“Seems like an answer a man on the run would give,” McCree pointed out, the weight of the past settling on his shoulders. There had been a time when he had answered to a different name, been a different person, but he had altered everything about himself to start anew and it left a bitter taste in his mouth to question someone who might have done the same. Still, he was a different person now, and that was the job and he narrowed his eyes at Jack. “You break the law?”

“No.” McCree might have been suspicious with how quickly the denial had become, but Jack was looking at him without the slightest hint of hesitation, holding his gaze with blazing blue eyes as he added strongly. “I’m not a criminal.” It was a line that McCree had heard more times than he cared to admit, probably said it a few times in himself, but he had never believed it as much as he did in that moment. In his line of work learning to read others had been essential, and there was nothing about the man in front of him to imply that there was a lie in his words and yet at the same time, there was a lingering uneasiness as he let his gaze rove over the bandages covering Jack’s torso. Those kinds of wounds weren’t something that would be done lightly. There was more to Jack than he was letting on, but then again that went for most people including himself, and he wasn’t about to throw stones at someone wanting to make a fresh start, at least not without proof to the contrary.

“Fine…” He replied eventually, but then his tone hardened as he let his hand shift down to his gun, noting the way Jack’s muscles tensed at the implied threat although he seemed to understand that it wasn’t a direct threat…yet, holding himself still. “Let’s get one thing straight Jack, you bring trouble on this town, on these people then I’ll end you myself. Understood?” He had worked too hard, for too many years to make this area peaceful to let it fall apart because of one man, even if there was something intriguing about Jack. For his part, Jack seemed unfazed by the threat, an understanding expression on his face as he nodded.

“Understood.”

****

    Two weeks had passed since that conversation and Jack, it seemed had no intention of leaving, at least not anytime soon. He had been kept confined to the clinic for those two weeks despite his best attempts to escape sooner, Angela proving reluctant to let him go despite his obvious improvements, determined to find an explanation for the speed at which he was healing, a topic that he blatantly tried to avoid all turns. In the end though there was no way to keep him there any longer, especially as he got antsier by the day. McCree was aware of this having been kept in the loop by Angela and having spent more than one afternoon trying to get more information out of Jack about what had happened to him, and where he came from; which it turned out was like getting water from stone, only that might have been an easier task.

    He had known that Angela was trying to find somewhere for the man to live and work, but he had only allowed himself to have a passing interest in the matter. There was something about Jack that caught his interest, drew him in and it was a weakness that he couldn’t allow, not when he was still waiting to see if trouble followed the man.

   Therefore, McCree had been startled to walk into the saloon a couple of nights later to find Jack stood behind the bar, looking like a new man in fresh clothes and with a warm smile on his lips. The scars on his face that had looked so shocking in the clinic, didn’t seem as bad in the warm light of the bar, in fact considering the interest he seemed to be getting it only added to his allure. McCree wondered how many people had asked about his past so far, idly wondering whether they would finally be able to learn something more about him. Jack’s gaze shifted to him at once, a hint of uncertainty behind the smile and McCree nodded in greeting before moving across to the other end of the bar where Thomas the owner of the saloon was sat, a bottle of whisky open in front of him. The older man greeted him warmly, pouring him a drink as he sat down.

“I see you have a new worker.”

“Angela knew I was looking for help, and he needed a place to stay and the room upstairs is still empty since Mary left,” Thomas replied, tone neutral as he sipped his own drink, watching McCree out of the corner of his eye and McCree sighed. The older man had always known when there was something bothering him, something that had freaked him out when he had first moved to the town, back when he had been in Jack’s place and sought refuge in this very saloon.

“You sure about this Thomas?” He had to ask, fingers tightening around his glass as he tilted his head towards Jack. “We still don’t know much about him.” _I still don’t know how dangerous he is…_

“Jesse McCree, you should know better,” Thomas scolded, glass chinking loudly as he set it down so that he could turn and face McCree head-on. He was one of the few in the town that knew everything about McCree’s history, the good and the bad, and McCree flinched at the reminder, feeling slightly guilty as he glanced across at where Jack was chatting with some of the locals. There was an easiness in his manner that McCree hadn’t seen before, and he had to admit that it was good to see, sighing as he turned back to Thomas whose weathered face slowly settled back into his usual easy smile as he tilted his head towards Jack. “He seems like a good worker, he’s certainly not complained about anything and he gets on well with everyone.”

   McCree sighed and nodded, gaze darting to Jack once more and lingering, watching as the new man laughed, face lighter than ever. The polar opposite of how McCree had been when he had started working here and lifting his glass he turned back to Thomas and lifted it in a toast. “Here’s hoping you’re right and that this place does for him, what it did for me.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

****

   McCree had always had a fondness for whisky and Thomas’s saloon, but he had always tried to keep the number of nights he spent there to a minimum, not keen to do anything to endanger the life he had now. Plus, he had a fine collection of spirts at home for the nights when he truly wanted to indulge. Yet for the past month he had found himself in the saloon each night unless he had been called away with work. Tonight, was no different, Jack smiling at him in greeting as he took his usual seat at the end of the bar, barely settling in before a tumbler was set in front of him. Murmuring his thanks, he lifted it and took a sip, humming appreciatively as he wracked his mind for something to talk about. Before he could come up with something Jack had been called away to serve some of the locals at the other end of the bar, and McCree found himself watching, wistfully searching for some difference in the smile that the older man was offering them and the one that had greeted him.

   Unsurprisingly their conversation soon turned to less than subtle attempts to learn about Jack’s past. In the first few weeks Jack’s expression had always faltered ever so slightly when people began to pry, not that a single word on the subject had left his lips, but now his smile didn’t even dim. Instead he smoothly set drinks in front of them all, even those who had yet to order recalling their preferences with an accuracy that McCree couldn’t help but envy, he had an eye for details but not the memory to retain the information. His awe, switching to amusement a moment later when he heard a chorus of groans as Jack held out his hand for payment, blue eyes unyielding even when a couple tried to protest that they hadn’t even ordered anything, not that it would ever stop them from drinking what was in front of them. However, in the last few weeks they had learned that Jack was immovable when it came to payment, and with much grumbling and complaining they handed it over, all thoughts of asking him questions long forgotten.

   McCree shook his head in amusement, clearly it was going to take them a few more hangovers and lighter pockets before they learned not to push the issue. He smoothed out his expression as Jack drifted back in his direction, trying not to react to the knowing look the other man was giving him.

“You’re hard on them,” McCree commented as Jack refilled his drink.

“I like my job,” Jack replied with a smile, gaze fond as he glanced around the saloon, trailing his fingers over the bar for a moment before adding with a glint in his eyes. “I’m not about to lose it by going easy on those drunkards.” _And you don’t want them…us…to know what the hell happened to you_ , McCree added silently, but he had long since stopped trying to push the issue. It wasn’t like he’d shared any of his past with Jack, and the man had been nothing but a boon to the saloon and town in general since he’d arrived. Hell, Angela was still raving about the work he had done on her clinic and she was one of the hardest people in town to impress and so he merely smiled and lifted his glass in a toast of acknowledgement.

“Fair enough.”

“So, what brings the Sheriff here for the sixth night in a row?” Jack asked, scooping up a cloth and beginning to tackle the build-up of glasses behind the bar, but although he seemed intent on

his task McCree could tell that he was waiting for a response and he sighed _. Six nights in a row?_ He hadn’t even realised, but he wasn’t about to doubt Jack’s memory. He didn’t have an excuse ready, and settled for hiding himself behind his drink, knowing that he was only buying himself a temporary stay. “Going to have to start calling you a regular soon,” Jack teased with a smile when he realised the other man wasn’t going to defend himself, deftly cleaning the glass he was holding and setting it aside, a soft chuckle escaping as he glanced up at McCree with a hint of challenge in his eyes. “You like alcohol that much?”

    McCree saw the challenge and paused for a moment, eyes narrowed as he weighed it and the warm smile that the man was offering him. He knew that Jack was aware that he was keeping an eye on him, but if he was being honest with himself he knew that had long ceased to be the main reason why he was in the saloon nearly every evening now and it had nothing to do with the whisky. Jack was still watching him, smile deflating ever so slightly, and McCree took a small sip of his drink, the burn of it warming the back of his throat and lending him courage as he offered Jack a smile of his own.

“Well,” he paused for a minute, meeting the bright blue eyes that were watching him intently before adding cheerfully. “The company is mighty enjoyable as well.” It was true, he had come to enjoy their conversations each night, discovering in Jack a man who had a dry sense of humour behind the warm smile and wall of secrets, who had gone out of his way to help the people who had made him home and who saw McCree as just another man…another regular. He didn’t realise how far his thoughts had wandered until the rest of the bottle he had been working his way through was set down in front of him with a clink and he blinked, looking up at Jack with questioning eyes, breath catching at the smile that met his gaze. A smile that was nothing like any he had seen so far, but before he could comment on it the moment ended and Jack turned away.

“On the house.”

****

    McCree paused as he heard a soft whistle from above him as he crossed the street, tilting his head up to find Jack leaning against the railing surrounding the water tower, staring down at him with a warm smile. It wasn’t the first time that he had seen Jack up there, but it was the first time the other man had tried to get his attention and he only hesitated for a moment before changing direction and heading for the stairs that led up to the top.

“You seem to have settled in well,” McCree commented as he reached the top, moving across to lean against the railing next to Jack, reaching up to secure his hat before it could be blown away. There was a nice view up here, and it was strange to realise just how long it had been since he’d been up here, and he let his eyes rove over the town, drinking in the changes that Delamar had undergone in recent years.

“It’s peaceful here,” Jack replied after a moment, drawing McCree’s attention back to him and he lifted his head to meet his gaze for a moment before he turned his gaze to the town as well, something in his expression shifting and darkening as he added. “Something that I’ve not known for a long time.” It was weariness, McCree realised after a moment of studying the other man’s profile, an exhaustion that went beyond the physical tiredness of spending the day hauling barrels and entertaining the patrons. A weariness that reminded him all too strongly of the long nights he’d spent on the run, holed up wherever he could find shelter, never feeling completely safe. However, after a moment Jack straightened, the darkness and weariness fading as though it had never been there as he turned back to McCree with a warm smile that reached his eyes, warming the blue until it felt like he was looking at a summer sky. “The company’s not half bad either.”

   McCree couldn’t help but laugh at having his own teasing words turned back on him, pleased to hear Jack’s soft chuckle join his a moment later.

“I’d have to agree.”


End file.
